Tian Hao stepped into the thrumming heart of the city, where sizzling street food and bursts of laughter painted a lively tapestry of life. The buzz of voices and the clash of promises filled the air, pulling him into the moment.
Nearby, a talisman seller's chants competed with the noisy promises of a sketchy pill vendor—wares claiming spiritual breakthroughs or dubious aphrodisiacs. Prosperity and mischief intertwined in every corner.
He strolled aimlessly, his hands tucked casually into his robes, his gaze drifting from one colorful stall to another. The vibrant streets offered a rare moment of solitude, a chance to escape the lingering unease that seemed to follow Lin Mei everywhere lately, like a shadow that refused to detach.
He was worried about her.
Her recent moodiness and the sharp edges to her words were hard to ignore. Even her laughter felt forced. It stood in stark contrast to the easy camaraderie they’d shared before their journey to the Jade Serpent Outpost. He missed that connection, the unspoken understanding they used to have.
He remembered how worried she’d been when he returned from the hidden realm. Her eyes had searched his face, as though checking he was still in one piece. Her voice had been uncharacteristically shaky as she insisted he rest. That moment, rare and raw, offered a glimpse of her vulnerability, a reminder of how much she cared.
He’d grown accustomed to her presence—her teasing banter, her quiet strength—a comforting counterpoint to his own chaotic energy.
He recalled the time she stepped in when Ruan Qing of the Jade Thistle Sect was making trouble. Her stern expression had been a reminder that she always had his back, even when he pushed the limits.
It was moments like that which made him realize how much he relied on her to keep him in check.
She was his anchor, steadying him when his impulsiveness threatened to spiral out of control. But what did that say about him? That he couldn’t rein himself in without her? The thought gnawed at him, a reminder of his own shortcomings.
Now, however, a chasm seemed to have opened between them. A silent, invisible barrier made his heart ache. He missed their shared jokes, the warmth of her smile, the way her eyes would light up when he'd tell a joke.
He knew, of course, that part of it was his own fault.
His little… demonstration at the teahouse with the Pure Path Sect disciples had been reckless. It was a blatant disregard for the sect’s reputation, a childish prank that could have serious consequences—as Lin Mei had so patiently pointed out.
Yet… he couldn’t bring himself to regret it entirely. There was a thrill in disrupting the established order, in challenging the rigid doctrines of those austere cultivators. Watching their carefully constructed composure crumble under the influence of a few potent drinks and his own unique brand of wisdom had been satisfying.
But there was more to Lin Mei’s unease than just his teahouse antics.
He’d seen it in her eyes—a flicker of fear, a tension that had nothing to do with his troublemaking. The way her hand now instinctively rested on her sword hilt and how her breathing seemed shallow were unmistakable signs of something deeper.
Something had changed in the Jade Serpent Mountains. He’d noticed it in the way she lingered in the back quarter of the outpost. Her odd behavior near that old well had left him with more questions than answers.
Maybe she found some secret treasure stash down there. Or maybe she's secretly meeting a handsome rogue cultivator—now that would be something.
He almost chuckled at the thought, trying to lighten the weight pressing on his chest. Her emotions, now shifting so erratically, were more than just her usual stoicism cracking under his antics.
It felt like she carried a weight he couldn’t share. A secret.
He’d tried to ask her about it at first, had reached out, hoping to bridge the distance that had grown between them. But she’d brushed him off, her words carefully chosen, her smile strained—a mask that hid the turmoil within her.
He respected her need for privacy, of course, though he couldn’t quite decide why. Was it guilt for his own recklessness? Admiration for the strength it took to shoulder such burdens alone? Or perhaps something more selfish—a fear that pressing too hard might push her further away?
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'Perhaps I should just ask Big Sister System to reveal Lin Mei’s deepest, darkest secrets,' he mused, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. 'After all, what’s a little karmic debt between friends?'
'Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? Maybe I’d just end up with a new fox on my shoulder… or two. Not the worst problem to have.'
Maybe, he mused with a wry grin, he was less a cultivator and more a catalyst for chaos. A walking, talking embodiment of karmic disruption.
Yet, wasn’t that exactly what his family and sect feared? His every move seemed to chafe against their rigid expectations, his unpredictability a constant source of frustration. Perhaps it wasn’t just rebellion, but the weight of those expectations that fueled his defiance. They wanted discipline, order, a dutiful cultivator—but what if he couldn’t fit into that mold? What if his path, chaotic as it was, carried its own kind of purpose?
'Perhaps, just perhaps, beneath all the silks and wine and gourmet food, I’m actually a secret agent of the Dao, sent to shake things up, to test the boundaries of what’s possible,' he thought. He chuckled to himself. 'My true mission? To introduce the world to the joys of… flexible cultivation! Kind of like a Daoist version of those travel vloggers back home, except instead of food challenges, I hand out karmic disruptions.'
'Yeah, right,' a more pragmatic voice echoed in his mind. 'More like you’re just a spoiled brat who can’t keep his mouth shut or resist hiding behind his family connections when someone challenges you.'
He exhaled, releasing the tension of those thoughts with a puff of air.
He couldn't tell, not yet, which version of himself held more truth. Even his earlier confidence sometimes felt brittle, more like a performance of bravado rather than the deep steadiness he craved.
He wondered if his recklessness was pushing people away. Were his antics making it harder for those who cared about him to truly stand by his side?
Then he remembered his father’s harsh words, the disappointment etched on Tian Shou’s face, the weight of his unspoken expectations—more a crushing force than the fiercest of spirit beasts.
'I know I’m pushing the boundaries,' Tian Hao thought, his usual hubris replaced now by a twinge of regret for how his father’s face held more worry, and how each attempt to discipline his wayward son seemed to increase the burden Tian Shou felt.
'But how far can I actually go? How much can I get away with before the karmic debt becomes… well, more than just a spoiled fox on my shoulder? Perhaps one day I’ll end up owing more than just flasks of fine wine, perhaps some ancient guardian will demand my blood, my service, or even…' He shuddered, the memory of the grotesque, twisted rabbit spirit beast he’d faced in Jiuwei’s pocket realm flashing through his mind.
A sudden image of Zhao Fei flashed through his mind, not the way they'd been together after the feast, but her expression in the morning—the shame, the weight of their elders’ judgment.
Had he been the only one punished? He felt a sharp pang of guilt. Perhaps his own recklessness now was part of his attempt to repay what he couldn’t yet face.
'But so far, so good, right?' He couldn't help the almost smug return of confidence despite the earlier trepidation, the excitement of what came next.
He had the backing of Big Sister System, after all. Hadn't she said that this was all part of some grand, cosmic plan? He had a destiny, a purpose beyond the Skyward Lotus Sect's limited expectations, didn’t he? Or maybe, he thought with a wry smile, 'I'm just making all this up to feel important—like the protagonist of some overblown webnovel.'
He glanced at his spatial ring, overflowing with Fatty Wu's culinary creations and a few carefully chosen vintage wines.
Things would all work out, he thought. They had to.
His thoughts, a chaotic mix of worry and confidence, swirled within him as he walked, his feet seemingly guiding him of their own accord.
He found himself standing before a secluded courtyard. Its entrance was framed by a stone archway draped with fragrant jasmine vines, their delicate white blossoms shimmering in the soft light.
He paused, feeling a subtle but insistent pull drawing him in. The air within the courtyard felt different—calmer, quieter. It was a pocket of tranquility amidst the city’s bustling energy, a place of whispers and fleeting shadows.
He stepped inside, and as he did so, the hum of the city’s energy receded. It was replaced by the gentle murmur of a hidden stream, the trickling rhythm a soothing balm against the cacophony he had left behind.
It was as if he had crossed into another world. The enclosed garden was serene, the bustling city’s noise now barely audible.
At the center stood a small pond, its surface dotted with lily pads. The soft gurgle of its waters created a calming melody, each ripple and wave a hypnotic rhythm—or perhaps, a signal.
A group of Pure Path Sect disciples sat on stone benches arranged in a circle to one side of the pond.
He recognized Ming Fan and Bai Xue among them.
Their postures were stiff, backs ramrod straight, as if the weight of their sect's rules pressed down on their very bones. Faces once vibrant with teahouse laughter now wore the pale mask of remorse, their gazes darting nervously toward one another, yet avoiding the still waters of the pond.
Even the gentle rustle of the garden’s leaves seemed to mock their subdued unease. Their pristine white robes stood in stark contrast to the garden's vibrant hues.
They huddled together, their whispers barely audible above the murmur of the pond.
Tian Hao smiled, the familiar spark of mischief flickering in his eyes. Fate, it seemed, had a rather interesting sense of humor. He’d been thinking about them, about the Pure Path Sect’s rigid doctrines and how his new quest might help him achieve whatever destiny he was meant for.
Here they were, right before him, ripe with potential for "enlightenment." He took a deep breath, savoring the garden’s tranquil atmosphere. Like the still surface of a pond just before a stone is thrown, he knew this peace was soon to shatter, ripples of fate spreading outward in unpredictable ways.